Chapter 10: The Visiting Room
The air inside the county detention center smelled sharply of industrial disinfectant and stale coffee. I sat across a reinforced glass partition in the quiet visiting booth, my fingers tracing the cold metal edge of the stainless-steel counter. The heavy steel door at the opposite end of the room clicked open, and Julian was escorted in by a correctional officer. He wore standard orange scrubs that hung loosely on his frame, his posture stiff, his once-impeccable hair graying at the temples. The arrogant sheen of invincibility was entirely gone, replaced by a hollow, burning resentment.
He picked up the heavy plastic telephone receiver with shaking hands and pressed it to his ear. I mirrored the motion slowly, keeping my expression neutral, refusing to let the ghost of my old fear surface in front of him.
"You think this makes you safe?" Julian’s voice rasped through the static of the speaker box, cold and venomous. "Arthur is old. When he's gone, the estate reverts to me through the primary corporate trusts. You'll be penniless within a month, Claire. You and that pathetic boy."
"Arthur has already restructured every family trust, Julian," I replied evenly, my voice steady for the first time in years. "The foundation is dissolved, your assets are frozen by federal indictments, and the courts have granted full emergency guardianship of Leo to me and your father. There is nothing left for you to control."
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Julian slammed his fist against the glass partition, the dull thud echoing sharply in the confined booth. The correctional officer immediately stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Julian’s shoulder and warning him back. Julian glared at me with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl before he slammed the receiver down onto its cradle and was hauled back through the heavy steel door.
I set my own receiver down gently, feeling a massive, invisible weight lift from my chest. The prison door closed with a heavy metallic clang, and for the first time in a decade, I exhaled without looking over my shoulder.
